Breaking the Ice

by Gail Nall

  I sway and grab hold of the cold metal cylinder. “What did you do? Make it stop!”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think that button would do anything. There’s got to be a brake down here somewhere.” ­Braedon peers past his legs at the floor.

  We’re rolling out of the garage at the speed of a turtle, but kind of at an angle, like the steering wheel is turned.

  “Hit the brake! We’re going to run into the wall.” I can’t let go of the cylinder. I’m gripping it so hard, my knuckles turn white.

  “I’m trying. I don’t know where the brakes are.” Braedon pushes on one pedal. The engine revs. It’s so loud, it might drown out the music at the party.

  My hands are definitely hot and sweaty now. I can’t take my eyes off the wall coming closer and closer. “Try another pedal.”

  “I don’t see another one.”

  “Then look harder!”

  “Maybe it’s one of these lever things.” Braedon pushes and pulls on the levers sticking up from the ledge. The one closest to his knee just seems to make the Zamboni move faster. He pulls on one behind him, and the big machine makes a hor­rible grinding noise from underneath us. But it’s still lumbering toward the wall. “Why won’t this thing stop?”

  “Wait, push that button again.” I point to it and feel sort of sick that I didn’t think of it before.

  But it’s too late. I watch in horror as the front driver’s side of the Zam collides with the short white wall.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There’s a shattering sound, like glass breaking, and then scraping, and the machine finally stops.

  Braedon’s eyes are huge as he peers over the side of the Zam. I’m frozen to my seat. We stare at the doors to the lobby, waiting for everyone to come running out.

  Nothing happens. The music thumps from the party, so loud it must’ve covered up the chugging of the Zamboni and the sickening sound of it hitting the wall.

  Braedon turns to me. “Get out! We have to get out of here before someone catches us.” His hand shakes as he punches the button and turns the ignition off.

  I make my legs move and jump to the ground after ­Braedon. I can’t help but look at the Zam as we pass the smashed corner to crawl back over the wall. The headlight is broken and the front corner is dented in. Part of it still rests against the wall, and I’m sure it’s completely scraped up.

  “Let’s go, Kaitlin! The sooner we get back, the better.” He pulls me over and we hurry past the rows of bleachers to the lobby doors. Braedon peeks through the windows.

  “Wait! Our stuff.” I run back to the first row of bleachers.

  My cup and Braedon’s certificate are gone. I scan all the bleachers, but they’re nowhere to be found.

  “Who cares? It’s just a stupid fake award. Let’s get inside.” Braedon pushes one of the doors open.

  I race over to slip in with him. “Someone must have come out and picked them up. They’re going to know it was us out there!”

  “They can’t prove anything,” Braedon whispers.

  I follow him to where Miyu, Samantha, and Addison are standing, drinking their punch, surrounded by clumps of ­people talking and having fun.

  “What’s wrong, Kaitlin? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Miyu tilts her head as she studies my face.

  “She’s nervous about Regionals, of course,” Addison says. “I’m not.”

  “I’m fine,” I say to Miyu. “Just . . . like Addison says, nervous.”

  Miyu raises her eyebrows. I’m paranoid she doesn’t believe me. “You need to de-stress,” she says. “We’ve got over a week till Regionals.”

  Addison takes a big gulp of punch from her cup. “This is really good. Didn’t you have some earlier, Kaitlin?”

  I glance at her. “Um . . . yeah. It was okay.”

  Addison gives me a half smile.

  And I know. I know she saw us and she knows exactly what happened.

  But before I can say anything to her, Greg claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Time for our official send-off! We have goodie bags for all of our Regional competitors.” He starts announcing names, and we go up one by one as everyone claps.

  “Hey, look, extra gloves.” Braedon pulls a black pair from his bag.

  New gloves are the last thing I can think about. “What if they figure out we were in the Zam?” I whisper to him.

  “Relax and stop thinking about it. No one saw us.”

  “Addison knows. She asked me about the punch!”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. You have to stop talking about it.” Braedon looks around. “We weren’t there and we didn’t do anything.” He strolls off to talk to Tom.

  “We?” But I’m talking to myself. I didn’t drive the Zam into the wall; he did. But I was there, sitting where I wasn’t supposed to be and probably breaking a hundred club rules.

  Probably more than enough to get me kicked out.

  “We have a serious problem,” Greg announces early Thursday morning. “Sometime between last night and this morning, someone started the Zamboni and ran it into the boards.”

  Chatter rises up across the room. Greg holds up his hand for silence. I look around for Braedon, but he’s not here yet. I sit on my hands because I’m sure they’re shaking like crazy.

  Across the room, I catch Addison’s eye. She smiles at me as she twists a lock of hair in her ponytail.

  “This means the ice can’t be resurfaced,” Greg continues. “They expect the machine to be fixed for tomorrow—good enough to cut the ice, at least. Our morning sessions should be fine, but the club will refund the cost of sessions to anyone who decides not to skate this afternoon. Practice the rest of the week should go on as planned. But the problem is more serious than that. I’m sure you all know how expensive a Zamboni is. It costs almost as much as a small house. And the price for repairing one isn’t exactly cheap either.”

  I gulp. Why did I go along with Braedon? I should’ve said no, should’ve gone back to the lobby. What is wrong with me?

  And he’s not even here. I’m still fuming over how he walked off from me last night. I thought he was my friend. Maybe more than a friend. But he’s not. The realization hurts even more than the time I tripped on backward crossovers and plowed into the boards headfirst. I won’t make the mistake of hanging out with him again.

  “The manager says there was no sign of a break-in,” Greg continues. “And our club members were the only ones here last night. Of course, I told the manager that there was no way any of my skaters would do something like that. We respect the rink and its property.” His eyes move slowly across the room. “I don’t want to be wrong. That’s all.”

  I let out the breath I was holding. Half of me expected Addison to jump in and accuse me. I wish I could tell someone, to get it off my chest. Adding this mess to my stash of secrets and worrying about Regionals is making me jumpy. I glance at Miyu. Maybe I’ll tell her. And hope she still wants to be my friend.

  Addison corners me on the ice as I’m arranging my stuff on top of the boards. She places her silver water bottle next to my purple plastic one. “So,” she says. “What are you going to do?”

  I put my package of tissues on top of my CD so I don’t have to look at her. “Do about what?”

  “Oh, come on, K. I know it was you and Braedon. I have that cup with your name on it and his award. So, what are you going to do?”

  I take a deep breath to try to steady my heart rate. “I don’t know.”

  “I have an idea, if you want to hear it.” She glances out over the ice as if my answer doesn’t interest her at all.

  “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  She turns back to me and smiles. “It’s not such a big deal. Just stay away from Braedon. If you do that, I’ll keep your little secret.”

  “Girls, practice
has started. Less talk, more skate,” Greg says as he moves past us.

  “Think about it.” Addison tightens her ponytail and glides off.

  I clench my hands so hard that my nails are digging into my palms, even through my gloves. Staying away from Braedon isn’t the issue. I don’t want anything to do with him anyway.

  The problem is letting Addison win.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A couple of days pass, and I keep the secret. No one says anything else about the Zamboni, but I feel guilty each time I see Greg. Which is every day.

  Braedon. I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for him. He seems to have forgotten about the whole thing. He’s laughing and acting completely normal. Not that I’m talking to him at all. Addison probably thinks I’ve agreed to stay away from him, even though I haven’t.

  But every time I start to blame Braedon, I hear that little voice in my head reminding me that it was my choice to go along with him.

  “What’s wrong?” Miyu asks as we wait for Karilee and her boom box to show up for off-ice class on Saturday. “You’ve been acting really weird ever since the party.”

  I shrug. “Just nervous, I guess.”

  Miyu scoots across the floor so that she’s sitting right in front of me. “That’s not it. I can tell. So what’s going on with you and Braedon?” she asks, like that’s a better topic to talk about. “You guys were practically inseparable, but I haven’t seen you even look at each other since the party. I thought you really liked him.”

  Luckily, the noise level in the lobby is so high that no one could’ve heard what Miyu just said. Because I’d die of embarrassment if anyone knew how I felt about Braedon. Or used to feel about him, that is.

  Miyu’s just sitting there, legs crossed, looking genuinely concerned about my relationship with Braedon. The guy who’s pretty much ruined my life. Suddenly I have to tell someone about the Zamboni. I cross my fingers and hope she’ll still be my friend once she knows.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  She scoots closer. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just promise?”

  “Sure. What happened?”

  I take a deep breath and twist my hands together. “You know how someone crashed the Zam at the send-off party?”

  “It was Braedon,” Miyu says.

  I stare at her. “How do you know?”

  “No one else would be stupid enough to do that. I figured it had to be him.”

  I wait until Samantha’s walked past us before I talk. “But why didn’t you say anything to Greg?”

  “I didn’t know for sure. I can’t just go blaming someone. But it was him, wasn’t it?” Miyu slides the locket on her necklace back and forth as she waits for my answer.

  “Yeah. It was. But I was sitting next to him.” I shut my eyes and relive that moment. My crush on Braedon dis­appeared the second the Zamboni hit the wall. “You were right. I can’t believe I went along with him on all those stupid things. Being late to off-ice, leaving your sleepover, skipping dance, and now crashing the Zam. If anyone finds out, I’ll get kicked out of the club.”

  Miyu shakes her head. “No, you won’t. Because you didn’t do anything. Yeah, you shouldn’t have been sitting on the Zam, but you didn’t run it into the wall. Braedon’s the one who’ll be in trouble.”

  “Do you think I should tell? What if they kick him out?”

  “I don’t know. But they won’t make him leave. Greg wouldn’t do something like that.”

  I remember how Greg agreed to coach me when no one else would, and I know Miyu’s right. “There’s more. Addison knows I was there and is threatening to tell Greg if I don’t stay away from Braedon.”

  Miyu looks like she’s eaten something sour. “That little . . .”

  I can’t help but giggle. That’s the closest I’ve ever heard Miyu come to swearing. “I don’t care about Braedon, but I hate the idea of Addison thinking I’m not talking to him because that’s the way she wants it.” I’m not entirely sure I don’t care about Braedon, but maybe if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.

  “I’m with you there,” Miyu says.

  I take a deep breath and tell her what’s been on my mind since I woke up this morning. “There’s only one thing I can think of to do.”

  “What’s that?” Miyu leans in a little closer.

  “Tell Greg I did it. Just me. I’m not going to say anything about Braedon.”

  She’s silent for a moment. “Wow. I don’t know if that’s crazy or brave. No, wait. It’s crazy.”

  “I don’t want to rat out Braedon, but I can’t let Addison use the whole thing to get what she wants. And I have to stop keeping these secrets. Even if it means that Mom will never let me out of the house again. Or agree to let me go to school.”

  “Do you want backup when you tell Greg?” Miyu asks.

  I stop picking at my yoga mat. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course!”

  I shake my head. “I think this is something I have to do myself. But thank you.”

  “No matter what he says, at least you’ll have it off your mind before Regionals,” Miyu says.

  Regionals. I can’t believe the competition is next weekend. The whole thing with the Zamboni made me forget all about it. Until now. “Hey, I could use your help planning something for everyone before the competition.”

  “Sure. What are you thinking of? More bracelets?” Miyu scoots back around to my side as Karilee plugs in her boom box.

  “Not a bracelet or anything like that. More like something to show everyone our club is just as good as any other club.”

  Her eyes get wide, and then a slow smile spreads across her face. “I’m in.”

  I find Miyu, Jessa, Samantha, Tom, Addison, and a whole bunch of other skaters in the Vocker Rooms before the four o’clock session on Monday. At least Braedon didn’t show up. He’s the last person I want to see right now.

  “Hey, everyone! Kaitlin’s here. She’s going to tell you all about her plan,” Miyu announces to the group.

  Everyone’s looking at me. I run my sweaty palms down the sides of my pants and take a deep breath as Braedon jogs in. Great.

  “Go on, Kaitlin.” Miyu elbows me in the side.

  I force my mouth open and start talking. “Okay. So, you know how no one takes any of us seriously? All of the mean things they say when they think no one else is listening? The stuff that goes missing from our bags at competitions?”

  A low grumble rolls through the group, and a few people nod.

  “Miyu and I decided it’s time we did something about that.”

  Miyu gives me a grin.

  From his spot in the back of the group, Braedon raises his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. I look past him and keep talking.

  “I thought we could throw a party on Friday night at Regionals. Invite all the skaters. Show them that we like them and that we’re fun to be around.” I cross my fingers behind my back.

  For a moment, no one says anything. Then Addison pipes up.

  “A party?” She’s standing off to the left in a red sweater and matching skating skirt. “Why would we want to throw a party for people who don’t like us? Why don’t we just have a party for ourselves?”

  Some of the others nod in agreement.

  “I know it’s kind of a weird idea,” I say. “But if we ever want things to change, I think we have to be the ones to make it happen.”

  “Sort of like taking the high road,” Miyu adds.

  “Exactly. If we’re really nice and friendly to them, how can they keep being so mean to us?” My fingers are tingling, but I keep them crossed.

  “I guess that makes sense,” Tom says. “Sort of.”

  “It’s not a sure thing, but our only other choice is just t
o let things go on as they are. And I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather try throwing a party.”

  No one says anything, but they’re all looking at me like they’re waiting to hear more.

  “So if we do this, we have two big problems we need everyone’s help with,” I say.

  “How to get people who hate us to come to our party?” Samantha asks.

  “That’s one. The other is where to have it. We’d have to pay to hold it in a restaurant. And no one’s parents would want it in their hotel room.” I don’t add how much I wish Mom was the type who’d jump at the chance for her daughter to host a party. That would be so much easier than keeping this whole thing secret. And I have to, because no way would Mom go for this when it might distract me from preparing for competition.

  “There’s zero chance my mom will let me go to a party the night before I have to compete,” a girl in a blindingly white dress says.

  Others murmur in agreement. I try to block out images of Mom steaming mad after finding out I organized this whole thing. Across from Miyu, Addison’s face is paler than pale. If there’s any mom who’d be madder than mine, it would be hers.

  “I can’t tell my parents either,” I say. “So maybe we should keep this a secret. Just invite the skaters. If they have fun, and they start being nicer to us, maybe their parents will too.”

  “But what if our parents find out?” the same girl asks.

  I clear my throat, but my voice still trembles when I talk. “Look, guys, you know how mad my mom would be if she learned about the party, but I still want to do this. It’s worth the risk to me to at least try to change everyone’s minds. If we get other skaters thinking about how we’re just like them, just as good as them—that we deserve it when we skate well and win—maybe they’ll respect us. Maybe they’ll stop calling us the Fall Down Club, and taking our things, and cutting us off in warm-up. We could actually have fun going to competitions if it wasn’t for all those things.”

  I can’t believe I said all that. The little girl in white is nodding and whispering to another girl next to her.